


The Delicious Cake

by Aoi_Hikari



Category: Original Work
Genre: Hanging, Schoolkids, casual guro, consensual guro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 21:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19934500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoi_Hikari/pseuds/Aoi_Hikari
Summary: Surely there wasn’t anyone in the class who believed that the agony of a slow hanging could be any worse than this torture by boredom? It was almost a shame that I didn’t take that money so that I could now confess and get this bullshit over with. Though wait a minute. Couldn’t I just confess even if I didn’t take it?





	The Delicious Cake

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Вкусный торт](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24090661) by [Aoi_Hikari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoi_Hikari/pseuds/Aoi_Hikari)



The bell signaled the end of the last lesson for the day and the students enthusiastically started to pack their things, anticipating doing whatever each of them was planning today. I, for one, was going to my friend’s birthday party. Coldy was turning ten today, a round number, so I was expecting quite a lavish meal for such an occasion, with a big cake with ten candles as its centerpiece. She was always bragging what delicious cakes her mom baked, so I was looking forward to finally having a chance to try it for myself. However, before any of us could exit the classroom, our teacher Miss Cutthroat suddenly said with a strict and loud voice: “Stop right there, class.”

With some disappointed muttering we returned to out seats. What could possibly be the matter?

“There was a hundred dollar bill here on my table,” the teacher said. “Who took it?”

Nobody answered.

“If no one is going to confess, I’ll have to punish the whole class,” she threatened.

But we all well knew she wouldn’t do it. She had the power to do so alright, but if she was left without students, who would she yell at? No, she enjoyed abusing children too much to just go and kill us all at once.

“I can wait,” Miss Cutthroat said. “Nobody’s going home until the culprit confesses.”

Was she even sure someone from the class took it? Maybe it’d just fallen under a table or something. Had she at least looked for it? Of course she hadn’t. So the whole class might get stuck in the classroom for a hundred bucks that no one even actually took.

As time went on and nobody confessed, I became more and more convinced that nobody had taken the money. Surely there wasn’t anyone in the class who believed that the agony of a slow hanging could be any worse than this torture by boredom? It was almost a shame that I didn’t take that money so that I could now confess and get this bullshit over with.

Though wait a minute. Couldn’t I just confess even if I didn’t take it? I suddenly realized I happened to have exactly a hundred bucks on me, and even in one bill too. My parents had given it to me in the morning so that I could buy a present for Coldy.

“Fine,” I said, coming up to the teacher with a hundred dollar bill in my hands. “I took it.”

“You made the right choice, Wormfood Deadcorpse,” Miss Cutthroat said, taking the money. “Believe me, living with the guilt would hurt much more in the long run.”

I tried to hide my smirk, as I thought that while I couldn't say anything about guilt, I got a feeling that living with her as a teacher certainly would.

I walked up to the noose that always hung in front of the blackboard for cases like this, put it around my neck and Miss Cutthroat pushed a button on the wall near her table making the rope gently lift me just enough so that my feet couldn’t reach the floor. At first it felt almost nice not having to support my own weight, but since to save the time I’d made sure to breathe out as much as I could before my throat was blocked, it didn’t take long for the burning in my lungs to cause my body to panic. I felt so silly as logically I perfectly understood how pointless it was and willed for nothing but to stop struggling, and yet my body didn’t obey me, my legs kicking about on their own in futile attempts to reach the floor and my hands gripping the noose on my neck, trying to pull it off. Come on, me, can’t you just, like, die and get over with it? We’re making the class wait.

“Do we have to watch it to the end?” I heard Coldy sigh boredly. “The school hours are long over and I kinda have a birthday party planned.”

Yeah, I can totally sympathize with you, I thought through the agony. Slow and painful death is only fun to watch for the first dozen times, once you get used to it slow just equals boring. Hell, even I felt kinda bored hanging here after seeing so many friends meet the same fate. As excruciating as it was, every bit of it was also totally expected. But at least I got to actually experience the agony. The rest of the class had to just sit and watch.

“And what do you think is the point of this kind of execution, Coldmeat Sweetpoison?” Miss Cutthroat asked.

“So that one doesn’t steal again?”

“For that we could just kill the culprit quickly and painlessly,” the teacher objected.

“Then to make one suffer?” Coldy guessed.

“What, suffer for the sake of suffering?” Miss Cutthroat sounded almost offended by such a line of thinking. “How inhumane would that be.” Yeah, like she didn’t make us all suffer much more just by being out teacher.

“No, to make them contemplate what they did,” my friend elaborated.

“And what good would that do if they’re going to die anyway? No,” Miss Cutthroat explained. “The goal is for you, the rest of the class, to watch the culprit suffer and through that learn not to steal. Which means if I let the class go without watching, your friend’s suffering would be for nothing.”

No, bitch, I put that noose on myself for the sole purpose of you letting them go. It would be for nothing if you don’t. Though while they were having that dialogue I’d already exhausted most of my strength, so it wasn’t long until I’d die and she would let everyone go anyway. But still that attitude of hers annoyed me more than the suffering itself.  
“So for which do you care more?” the teacher continued. “Your friend’s last moments or the cake waiting for you at home?”

I chuckled. Kinda. Well, I would have if my throat wasn’t squeezed shut by the noose. Anyway, I couldn’t help but find it extremely funny how Miss Cutthroat spoke with such confidence like she’d just won the argument, while in truth she’d lost it.

“The cake of course,” Coldy replied without hesitation. Yup! I knew my friend too well to expect any other response from her. In any other situation I would have found it irresistibly cute how much of a sweet tooth she was. But now I was thinking more in terms of how cool she’d owned the teacher.

“Oh…” Miss Cutthroat certainly didn’t expect such a turn of events. “Very well then, if that’s how you want it, everyone’s free for today.”

Through my blurry vision I could only see the vague silhouettes of my classmates noisily getting up from their seats and heading out of the room. Since I was already almost dead most didn’t pay my any attention walking past me as they hurried to get home sooner. Only one person stopped before me and it took me a moment to force my eyes to focus and see that it was Coldy. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for not getting her a present, how I would have loved to take a bite of that cake or how I was amused by the way she owned the teacher in that argument, but instead of making sounds my tongue just stupidly hung out of my mouth.

Ignoring how silly I looked Coldy raised herself on her tiptoes and whispered into my ear: “It was me who took the money.” Before I could comprehend what she’d just said she gave me a sweet smile and ran away.

Now that was unexpected. I’d imagined Miss Cutthroat would eventually find those hundred bucks of hers and would have to live the rest of her life bearing the guilt of killing an innocent student, as living with guilt was something she herself claimed to be worse than death, so it would be just fitting for herself to end up in that position.

But it retrospect it made sense. Among the two of us my friend had always been the smarter one. And earlier today I had mentioned to her that I had a hundred bucks to buy her a present. So when Coldy saw the same sum of money on the teacher’s table, of course she’d taken it. Knowing I had a hundred bucks of my own she’d figured I would turn myself in and with me dead she’d get more of the cake for herself. It was a clever scheme very much in her style. I couldn’t help but admire and feel proud for her.

A shame it wouldn’t teach Miss Cutthroat a lesson she so much deserved, but in the end I was glad it turned out like this. Now I didn’t have to worry about the present, as Coldy still got the same hundred bucks. Nor did I have to worry about me not getting the cake, as it meant Coldy got more of it, which was precisely what she wanted. Not to mention that if she’d been the one to take the money it meant that she owned the teacher even more than I imagined. And as much as Coldy couldn’t wait for the cake, she took a moment to tell me that it was her who took the money, so that I knew everything was going according to her plan. It was so sweet of her. Now instead of spite for Miss Cutthroat my heart was filled with happiness for Coldy as I pictured her enjoying her mom’s famed cake. That was certainly a nice image to have in my mind in my last moments. And somehow my dying brain translated my immense pain into the sweetness of the cake in my imagination, which made it from an annoying to an actually welcome sensation.

But I didn’t get to enjoy it for long, as even that pain was now quickly fading with my consciousness slipping away. Can’t have the cake and eat it too, I guess. I couldn’t even tell what senses told me this, I just somehow knew that the rest of the class had left the room, followed by Miss Cutthroat, who didn’t even bother to check it I was already dead. Well, not that I’d last much longer anyway, and then the janitor could take care of my body later.

Alright, seems like I have just enough life left for one last thought. Well then. From the bottom of my heart.

Happy birthday.


End file.
